


The Adventures of the Showgirl and the Sheriff

by sassyviolet



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Decadence, Dressup, Established Relationship, F/M, Historical Roleplay, Prostitution/sex work, possession/marking, silk/velvet/feathers/furs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:32:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassyviolet/pseuds/sassyviolet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony throws a party. Darcy misses Clint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Adventures of the Showgirl and the Sheriff

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kink Bingo 2012 Amnesty. (Prostitution/Sex Work, Historical Roleplay, Dressup, Possession/Marking, Decadence, Silk/Velvet/Feathers/Furs)
> 
> Thank you to Sullacat for the title and the prompt, and for checking it over for me. :D

Darcy stared at the pile of satin and tulle on the bed. "Have you lost your mind, Jane?"

She reached over to press her wrist against Jane's forehead. No fever, so she couldn't be delirious. Or could she? Darcy supposed someone could've infiltrated the tower and released a mind-altering agent into the ventilation shafts. The only problem with that theory was that she, herself, was not feeling so altered.

"Come on, it'll be fun! Tony said the theme is the Wild West." Jane was already half-dressed in her own costume, which appeared to have approximately twice the fabric of Darcy's.

"Whoa, wait a second. Who picked these out?" It made a little more sense if Tony had, she thought, picking up the fuchsia corset. An honest-to-God corset… a nice one, actually, she realized, feeling the soft, heavy satin and the black lace. It had to have cost a fortune, which… yeah. Tony.

"I picked. You like hot pink," Jane wheedled. Then she turned around and presented her back to Darcy, the dark red she'd chosen for herself somehow unsurprising. "Besides, that was the only one in your size. Come on, lace me up and then I'll do yours."

"…Where did you get my measurements? Did you hack my SHIELD file or something?" Darcy asked as she tugged the ribbons at the back of Jane's corset, pulling them tight and tying a bow. Jane's was pretty, the skirt that went with it long and red with a ruffle of black lace around the hem. Thor would probably approve.

Jane turned around and rolled her eyes. "Please. I checked your bra size, and you're shorter than me, so I estimated."

Math. Darcy should have guessed. "I guess it's better than the Annie Oakley outfit I was gonna wear tonight," she decided. If only Clint weren't on a mission, Darcy thought wistfully. Maybe she could take some pictures, later, and send them to him. Or there was Skype…

"Yay!" Jane grinned from ear to ear. "Now come on, let's get you dressed."

"Fine. But you'd better double-knot the bow." Darcy sighed as she peeled off her sweater.

**

Darcy perched on a barstool two hours later, eyeing the cherry in her glass. The common area was dimly lit, and decorated sort of like an Old West saloon might look, she supposed. There was a dance floor, too, but the party was just getting started, and not many people were out there yet. Most people were still milling around, checking out costumes. Steve was there, dressed in a black leather vest and black pants, with black leather chaps, his hair slicked back beneath a black hat.

She'd gaped, for just a moment, and then realized he was gaping right back, that familiar blush of his flooding his cheeks as his eyes skimmed down over her. Darcy had grinned at him when he'd stammered an apology, then leaned in to tell him it was okay, and that Natasha was staring at him. Actually, Natasha was staring _and_ licking her lips like she saw a particularly tasty treat, but Darcy didn't want to scare Steve off. She wanted to watch that develop.

"Barmaid propping up the bar? I think you're taking the method acting a little too far, Lewis," Tony quipped as he came over for another drink. "You should be out there dancing and having fun, particularly dressed like that," he added, his gaze appreciative as it raked over her.

She gave him a crooked smile. "Just saving my breath for a good song. Jane estimated a little on the small side with the costume, I think."

“I see nothing wrong with it, myself," Tony told her with a smirk. Then he glanced at something across the room, his attention diverted. "Ah… looks like Natasha's made her move. I need to go watch this." He started to walk off, drink in hand. "If you’re not dancing in ten minutes, I’ll put you over my shoulder and carry you out there. Don’t think I won’t,” Tony called back, saluting her with his whiskey sour as he sauntered off toward where Steve and Natasha were dancing, one hand hooked in his belt loop.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Darcy reached to pick up her drink, the deceptively fruity flavor giving way to the sharp bite of whiskey on her tongue. She shrugged as she put the glass down, one black, lacy shoulder strap slipping down to drape over her upper arm. They were just for show, anyway, she decided, and didn't bother to fix it. She was laced so tightly into the corset that it had been hard to breathe at first, but then she'd figured out the trick. Turned out all of her mother's admonishments to stand up straight when she was younger weren't just her fussing over Darcy.

So she could breathe, and when she’d caught sight of herself in the mirror she had blinked. She looked… hot. Her hair was piled high in an elaborate knot, long curls hanging down here and there, and her makeup was smoky and dramatic. The corset fit like a glove, nipping her waist in a tiny bit and making her curves that much more prominent. With her shoulders back and her back straight, her breasts were just _out there_ , on display, but she felt pretty. Sexy. The skirt was filmy and sheer, the hemline higher in front, and the silky stockings and high heels made her smile.

"Well, now, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

Darcy spun around, her eyes wide as she stared at Clint. He had managed to sneak up behind her, but even with that moment of surprise and the whiskey warming her blood she was able to quickly absorb a few salient points. Most important was that he was more or less unhurt, from what she could tell, but as he leaned his hip against the bar and flicked the brim of his hat, nudging it back, she saw faint shadows under his eyes. Then she leaned closer.

His eyes were rimmed with eyeliner, smudged just a little for effect. Darcy propped her elbow on the counter, slowly crossing her legs as she leaned into the line of his body. "I could say the same, cowboy," she murmured, her eyes raking over the snug, black striped pants and the long-sleeved shirt… and the vest, with the tin star pinned to the left side. "Or is it sheriff?" Her eyes lifted to his again. "You look thirsty."

"…Parched," he admitted, reaching out to catch one long, spiraling curl where it lay across her breast.

Darcy's breath hitched and she licked her lips, tasting cherries and whiskey. "We can't have that." She turned and stood up on the rail of the bar, then leaned over, brushing against him as she snagged a glass from behind the bar. She felt his hand steadying her as she settled back onto the stool and reached for the bottle of whiskey. "There's this, or beer," she explained as she poured him a slug. "And the beer's on ice over there," she said, waving toward where Tony was holding court.

"This'll do," Clint said, one hand resting at the curve of her waist as she offered him the glass. He nodded at hers, the cherries and whiskey by now muddled. "What's that you're drinking?"

"I don't actually know if it has a name," she admitted. "Mostly whiskey, with cherries in it, I think. Don't laugh," she said, smirking just a little when she caught the look on his face.

"Wasn't going to," Clint murmured, downing his whiskey before leaning in and pressing his lips to her earlobe. "Let's get out of here, Darce," he breathed, his lips nibbling at the soft bit of flesh.

She slid off the stool and led him out, choosing the stairs instead of the elevator, because the elevator would've meant crossing the room and maybe having to stop to talk to someone. She felt his eyes on her as she climbed the stairs ahead of him, and Darcy cast a glance back over her shoulder as they reached the top, one eyebrow lifted. Clint was quiet, playing the part of the brooding lawman to perfection. It wasn't all that much of a stretch some days, she realized, and for a moment Darcy wondered how the mission had gone and if he really was okay. But then the corner of his mouth turned up, just the hint of a smile softening his face and she smiled back, slow and seductive.

Then they were at the door, and he was pressed against her back as she got it open, his breath warm as he trailed kisses down the line of her neck and across her bare shoulders. "Been thinking about this," he rasped, his voice low as they stumbled through the door together. "But I've got to say, my imagination didn't do you justice," Clint admitted, his eyes dark as he crowded her against the wall.

Darcy's breath was getting short already, and not just from the tightness of her stays. Clint's hands settled at her waist, his touch warm through the layers of satin and lace. They stroked over her sides, the heels of his hands brushing the sides of her breasts as they skimmed upward. Darcy gave a soft gasp and lifted her arms to wind them around his neck, but Clint had other ideas. He kept his hands moving, sliding all along her arms until he reached her wrists, circling them and gently tugging them away.

Clint stretched her arms above her head and held them there, one hand pinning her wrists to the wall with a gentle but firm grip, and Darcy felt her back arch. Her stomach flipped and her panties grew damp as Clint reached up to take off the hat and tossed it aside, and then leaned in to kiss her, hard and deep and wet. She made a soft noise as her lips parted, then louder when his teeth sank into her full bottom lip, tugging it gently. "Please," she murmured, her voice needy and soft.

"Shh," Clint breathed against her skin, his lips trailing down over her chin while his free hand brushed over the swell of her breasts, his calloused fingers making her tingle as they traced along the top edge of the corset. "Three weeks I've been thinking about this, Darcy," he told her, his voice low as he punctuated each word with a press of his lips, his stubble rough against her soft skin. "Ever since Stark announced this party. And I thought I was gonna miss it." His thumb found one hard nipple and stroked it through the layers of material, and she gave a soft whine.

"So stop teasing, cowboy," she managed at last.

Her eyes locked with his, and Darcy saw the moment he snapped. Clint let go of her wrists and slid his hands down to gather up her frothy skirt, sliding up her thighs and cupping her ass. He lifted her up in one abrupt movement, and Darcy gave a startled squeak and her hands fall to his shoulders as she wrapped her legs around him. One of Clint's hands stayed where it was, squeezing and kneading, while the other jerked at the front of his pants, unfastening and unzipping. Then she felt his hand on her, his fingers hooking beneath her panties to tug them aside and Darcy moaned.

"You're so wet already," Clint breathed as his fingers slipped between her slick folds. "Fuck, Darcy, s'gonna be so good." He pulled his fingers out and she whined, wanting more. Needing more. Then she felt his hand brush against her again as he reached to line himself up, his knees bending slightly as he guided her onto his cock.

His quick, hard thrust drove her up against the wall and tore a harsh, needy cry from Darcy. "Oh God, Clint," she gasped, clinging to his strong shoulders as he drew back and snapped his hips into her again. She heard the low, rough sounds he made with each stroke, the breathless way he groaned her name as he nosed against her, his mouth sliding against hers as he took what he needed.

"Darce, I can't…" His mouth fell to the bare upper curve of her breast, sucking a mark as his movements began to grow choppy. Clint reached one hand between them, pressing her into the wall and grinding against her with short, sharp thrusts while his thumb rubbed her clit.

"Like that, oh, fuck, Clint…" She gave a breathless whine, her head falling back against the wall as her body arched against him. Stars exploded behind her eyes, and her nails dug into his shoulders as she shook.

Darcy felt him thrust into her again, his hand gripping her hip tight enough to bruise as he shuddered against her and went still. With trembling arms, she clung tight to him, one hand carding through his hair as they both caught their breath. He lifted his head after a few moments, giving her his sleepy, after-sex smile as he helped her find her feet again. She leaned against him, smiling as he nuzzled against her cheek.

"Best birthday present ever?" she asked when she found her voice. Clint's birthday was generally a touchy subject, but Darcy thought she had chosen her moment well. She'd gone along with his request for no cards or 'Happy Birthdays', but she hadn’t wanted to let the day go entirely unmarked.

Clint's eyes crinkled as he gave her a slow nod. "Yeah," he admitted.

"Good." Darcy reached up and cupped his cheek with one hand. She gave him a soft, sweet kiss, then chuckled softly against his lips. "Gonna help me hide this so we can go back to the party and let Tony 'surprise' you with not-a-birthday cake?" Her fingers skimmed over the darkening mark on the curve of her breast.

He flushed, but then nodded and gave her another hard kiss. "I can do that." Clint caught one of her long curls and wound it around his fingers. "Kind of messed up your hair, too," he murmured, unapologetic.

Darcy laughed and pushed him toward the bathroom. "You can fix that, too. Come on, cowboy."


End file.
